The Woman He Married (27 page)

With both arms supporting her, John stayed in the shower, swaying softy as the warm easy water washed away what was left of the night before. When his own eyes became heavy, he helped her out of the shower. With a towel wrapped around his waist, and one around Josie, he dried her off and helped her dress in a tank top and panties, before she collapsed down onto the bed. Pulling the covers up, he tucked her in securely.

After slipping into a pair of boxer shorts, John climbed into bed next to his wife. He held his eyes open as long as possible, watching Josie’s chest rise and fall with each breath until his lids become heavy, and he too, drifted off to sleep.

In the eastern sky, the sun had risen, bringing with it the light and hope of a new day.

* * * *

The ringing of the phone roused John from a deep slumber with a start. Immediately, his focus turned to Josie. Seeing that she was still breathing, he lay back and allowed the phone go unanswered until it finally stopped. A few moments later, when the ringing started up again, he dragged himself up to sitting, and making his way over to Josie’s side and the phone, he stubbed his toe on the wheelchair in the process. Swearing and hopping on one foot, he shoved the wheelchair across the room, sending it to a crashing stop at the opposite wall. On the other end of the line, Carol was frantic.

“John, where the hell have you two been? I haven’t heard from Jocelyn in almost two days.” The clock on the bedside-table read six thirty in the evening. John groaned.

“Well, there’s been an accident.” John explained the situation to Carol, leaving out almost every important detail about the incident, except that Josie was going to be okay.

“How could you let this happen? You know how impulsive she can be,” Carol said. “I tell you
what,
if she doesn’t come home in one piece you best not show your face either! If you get what I’m saying.”

Hysterical females.
He didn’t have the energy for her right now. “So, how are the kids? Sampson?” After changing the subject, he listened absently as she related the events of the last few days. “Thanks again for stepping in at the last minute to watch the kids. The trip’s been good for both of us. Well, except for…”

He breathed a sigh of relief when his mother-in-law finally hung up.

John’s stomach growled as he replaced the receiver. He glanced over at Josie, who didn’t appear to have moved since he’d tucked her in that morning. Dressing quickly in jeans and a polo shirt, he ran his fingers through his tousled hair and headed out of the room.

At the front desk, he checked to see where
Lanny
and the others were at the moment. The clerk directed him to the Gentleman’s Club around the corner.

Once designated for men only, the Gentleman’s Club, with its mahogany walls, billiard tables, bar and cigar smoke, now accommodated both genders, but the majority of its patrons still consisted of individuals of the male persuasion. Sitting in an over-stuffed leather chair with matching ottoman,
Lanny
inhaled on an expensive cigar while scanning the
Wall Street Journal
. Across the room, Andy and Patrick played pool. The ladies were nowhere to be seen.

When John sauntered in,
Lanny
looked up from his paper.

Pinching the cigar dangling from his lips with his thumb and forefinger, he removed it from his mouth. “Well, look who finally decided to grace us with his presence.” He pointed the smoldering figure of male dominance in John’s direction.

Forcing a smile, John said, “Can’t remember the last time I slept all day.” He eased himself into a similar chair, facing
Lanny
. He could tell by
Lanny’s
expression that he must look like hell.

“How’s Jocelyn doing?”

“She’s still sleeping.
Whatever it was
Denton
gave her knocked her out pretty good.”
John heard his stomach growl again. “Is there anyway to get something to eat around here? I’m about to starve.”

Lanny
snapped his fingers at a passing waitress wearing a short satin skirt and a tight, sleeveless tuxedo blouse.

“Sugar, could you please bring my friend here something special to eat? He’s had a hard night.” Smiling at her slyly, he added, “
Sure
would appreciate it,
Darlin
’.”

The waitress looked over at John and smiled seductively. “We have two options, burger and fries, or steak and fries. Which do you prefer?”

“
Steak’ll
be fine. And beer, anything domestic with do,” John said, ignoring her subtle flirtations. As she left, he noticed her looking back to see if he was watching her.

Lanny
caught the look and eyeballed John, smiling wryly.

“You sure have a way of
attractin
’ the beautiful women. I tell you what. Like moths to a flame,” he said, stuffing the stogy back into his mouth.

Patrick spied John and walked over. “Hey, how’s Jocelyn?” he said, looking genuinely concerned.
“Thought you weren’t supposed to leave her alone.”

“She’s sleeping still. I just came down for a quick bite and to make an appearance. Then I’ll head back up. She won’t even know I was gone.” John made his explanation with a look at Patrick conveying the message
“I know how to take care of my wife.”

“Jocelyn...that is one crazy woman you married, big brother,” Andy put in. “You need to keep a closer eye on that one.” He whistled through his teeth.

John tried to change the subject. “Where are all the ladies?”

“At the spa.
Least that’s where I think they are.” Andy shrugged. “Who knows?”

The waitress returned with John’s food and set the plate down on the ottoman in front of him. She made eye contact one more time before sashaying off.

Slapping Patrick on the back, Andy said, “Come
on,
let’s finish our game so I can collect my fifty bucks. Let John eat—I guess he’s earned it after the night he’s had.” He steered a reluctant Patrick back toward the pool table.

As John ate,
Lanny
brought him up to speed on everything he’d missed while sleeping that day, including how they all decided to spin the bus accident and subsequent rescue into a positive sound bite for the campaign

Hero John Bearden, the judicial candidate from Alabama, saved twenty people from a burning bus, with no regard for his own safety…

John informed
Lanny
that it was really Josie and
Denton
, but
Lanny
waved him off, indicating that everyone would get their due. “Don’t sweat the small stuff.” Besides, it was too late. Trisha and Patrick had already written it up and put the story out on the wire. John exhaled deliberately, feeling rather bothered, but too tired to argue any further—at this point anyway.

Lanny
blew smoke rings while regarding John closely as he finished up his supper. “You’re a damn lucky man. You know that, don’t you?”

John hadn’t realized just how hungry he was, but stopped eating to give
Lanny
his attention. “How’s that, exactly?”

“You have a great career. You’re almost a shoe-in for this election. Now you’re a hero.”
Lanny
bounced his brows for emphasis. “And, you have ’bout the best wife any man could ask for,” he added, giving John a stern look.

John thought about how he’d almost lost her. With his hunger now replaced by angst, he set down his fork. “Yeah, she’s pretty amazing.”

“Not many men get the chance to live out their days with a woman like Jocelyn.
Beautiful, intelligent,
and
gutsy.”
Taking a long drag from his cigar,
Lanny
blew out the smoke. “Oh, she’ll give you a run for your money, but there sure is
somethin
’ sexy ’bout a woman who won’t take any crap. You know what I’m
sayin
’?”

Lanny’s
words kicked recollections of Josie debating at the table, playing golf, and especially her tenacity the night before, into his guilty conscious—she was all of those things and more.
“Yes, sir.
I believe that I do.”

Lanny
stayed quiet, puffing on his cigar as John processed their conversation a moment longer.

“Plus, she plays golf. If she starts complaining that you’re spending too much time on the course, you can just bring her along if you don’t mind her
kickin
’ your ass occasionally.” Leaning back,
Lanny
placed the cigar back in his mouth and talked through the smoke. “Don’t come any better than that.”

John leaned back too, watching
Lanny
take another drag. “I suppose you’re right,” John said, suddenly anxious to get back to Josie. “Guess I best
get
on back up there and check on her. She’s bound to wake up sooner or later.”

“Be sure to take care of that girl, you hear? She’s one in a million.”
Lanny
smiled around his cigar, watching John finish his beer.

Using the arms of the chair for support, John pulled himself up to standing.

“Thanks again for the steak and the advice.” John smiled at his smoke-engulfed guru.

“My pleasure, young man.”
Lanny
saluted John as he left, before taking up his paper again.

* * * *

John bounded up the deserted staircase, taking the stairs two at a time, heading back to the room. He didn’t really know how he wanted to play it, but somehow he had to tell Josie about Trisha and then beg for her forgiveness.
Lots of pleading, groveling and possibly jewelry—that should do it
.
Turning the corner into an empty hallway, he stopped short when someone stepped out of the shadows.

“It’s about time you showed your face—I’ve been waiting.” Trisha sauntered toward John, wearing a black, mini-wrap dress and three-inch slides.

John held up his hand, indicating she not come any closer. “Now’s not a good time, Trisha.”

“What’s the matter, you still angry ’bout last night?” She turned her face down in a pout. “I wore your favorite.” Untying her dress, she revealed a black lacey bustier.

His opinion of her had changed considerably since the accident, but then she did fill out that sheer lace impressively. John averted his gaze. “Not tonight, Trisha. I’ve
gotta
get back.”

“Get back to
what
?” She played dumb, wrapping her dress back up. “Tonight’s the last night, and we’ve hardly had a chance to use
our
room with Jocelyn and
Denton
here.”

“Look, Trisha…” John started,
then
stopped. “I’ve got to get back to Jocelyn.” He wanted to tell her that their affair was over, but not here. Not now.

He started down the hall again.

Trisha stepped in front of him and put a hand to his chest.
“Since when is Jocelyn a priority for you?”

He looked at her with disdain. “Look, Trisha, I don’t want to get into this right now.” A nicely-dressed older couple walked past, eyeballing them suspiciously.

John smiled awkwardly at the couple, and then lowered his voice. “I need to get back to my
wife
. She needs me…and…I need her.” Giving Trisha one last stern look, John removed her hand from his chest, and pushed past her.

“What the
hell
is that supposed to mean?” Trisha called after him. “John!”

He never looked back.

* * * *

A dull pain pulsated through her body as Josie dreamt that an evil knight, dressed in Trisha’s black bikini, was slashing at her body and hands with an enormous gold embossed sword. She tried to move, but her feet were stuck in the soft sand of the beach, sinking deeper with every second she struggled to be free. When the images slowly started to fade, Josie’s subconscious assumed that it had to be a dream—knights didn’t wear bikinis, and Trisha was way too skinny to wield a sword of that size.